Sunday best: New dresses

No matter what I write next, the real gist of this post is that I love this dress. I'm on the cusp of buying it and a blog post is often my tipping point on these things, so here I am tipping myself.

Looking at clothes and seeing a perfect version of a potential you, a mere transaction away, is something I think we all do. In most cases it works itself out, reasoned into some kind of neutral space, where the dress is reduced from that absurd potential to a mere thing you might wear, occasionally or often. Then, if you still like it, you like it less for the idea and instead for simple things, like the material and cut that will flatter your figure.

But sometimes it stays in that hepped up space. Then the denial of it is as significant as the indulgence. Thinking it should be a reward or for some unachieved goal signifies a kind of undeserving state you're placing yourself inside of, where this dress would be too much to possess right now, its potential premature in the mundanity of your days.

Or maybe you buy it. And you fret over the two sizes you always seem between, until you commit to the bigger one to be on the safe side. Or the small one because you're feeling optimistic. And it wings its way to you, across the ocean or over land.

Perhaps you think then of the report you recently heard that Fedex and UPS will soon use unmanned aircraft to fly their packages. So you picture it up there in a drone, a vision of the future. And you imagine packages falling from the sky, landing on doorsteps and desks, and people becoming used to ducking and diving.

Until the dress arrives. Then you open it and hang it on the back of a wardrobe door where you admire it. You don't try it on yet; you just got into work and the stink of your commute might sully the silk. And there it hangs until one morning, you reach for it and try it on.

The trying on can go two ways. In the good version means it finds itself a regular spot in your wardrobe rotation until it's no longer a dress you love, but one you trust. One day you'll notice a fray or pull, a small water stain on the silk. But you keep wearing it for long after that.

And there'll be other dresses and other seasons. More things to love, more things left unworn. And that potential you you imagined really does emerge on certain days, a shock to yourself. It has nothing to do with the dress, or with any dress, really. But then again it does.

I always feel soothed when I read your blog, and like that you are broody and analytical, without going over the top. You are also a wonderful writer and I love your sense of aesthetics. Please keep writing and putting together this blog! It's essential to my daily comfort, and need for mental stimulation.

Beautifully said Jane! I hope that one day I'll also be able to contemplate buying such beautiful things, and you are such an inspiration in that regard as well as in many others! I hope if you do buy this dress that it will be a dress that you come to trust :)

Oh god, I love your posts Jane! I've been saving this one and a few others for when I have time to read it properly - like now.

You have a knack for being able to express those simple details of our daily existence in a way that makes them seem profound. Because I could picture everything you described here through my own habits: the indecision and sheer longing for an object or a dress, the anticipation, the opening of the package, the hanging in the wardrobe, the first try, and then, the worn familiarity. Sometimes, those details are the only things that make everyday life bearable. Which is why I always resist a straight-out monetary value to things, because they can be so much more.

I agree Hila. When I blog these Sunday bests, I'm aware of the material component, the prices too. Sometimes I throw in something absurdly priced just to underline that this is mostly in the idea realm. However, when it's not, it's because it is in this kind of space, where it's less about "stuff" and more about "belongings" in the most personal sense of that word.